The Game We Play
by rosenymphadoramalfoy
Summary: All is fair in love and war... or was it love and quidditch? What isn't fair, according to Scorpius Malfoy, is spending valuable quidditch time being tutored by Rose Weasley of all people. Little does he know that in his heart something other than contempt will brew and bubble, but to everyone else it certainly smells of toil and trouble.
1. Chapter 1

"But professor, I can't play quidditch with a Poor in potions."

Scorpius Malfoy sputtered at his professor, his brow knit together in frustration. A red "P" was written across the slip of paper in his hand, declaring his first quarter standing in 5th year potions. The instant class was dismissed, the blonde young man had darted for the front desk, his glimmering professional quidditch career vanishing before his eyes at the single mark.

Unfazed, the ancient Professor Ludwig pointed at the paper with his pudgy finger. "You won't pass your OWLs with a Poor in potions either, young man."

But Scorpius didn't care about his OWLs. He wouldn't need them to play in the pros. However, the stout Scot on the other side of the desk did have a point. He needed to pass to be eligible to play. Slytherin had a match against Hufflepuff in three weeks; it was Scorpius's first year starting and he was not going to miss a match over a foul smelling potion or two.

A snarl fell over his features as his gray eyes dropped back to the paper now crinkled in his fist. "So what do I need? Extra credit?"

Ludwig snorted, shaking his head. "You know very well I don't give extra credit. I expect you to do the work I give you and to do it well, not to look for an easy out." He had heard this lecture since his first year. Ludwig repeated it at the start of every term, but inevitably one or two students in each house would come begging for last minute assignments to bump up their grade. "What you need is a tutor."

"A tutor?" Scor spat, his face contorting as if the word was sour on his lips.

Professor Ludwig sat forward and pressed his hands against the desk. "Yes, a tutor. Otherwise you will be sitting on the sidelines with the rest of the Slytherins come November 20th."

Scorpius huffed and rolled his eyes, his shoulder sinking in defeat.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, before you go." Ludwig raised a hand to gesture to the red-head emerging from the supply closet. He could always count on her to linger and clean up after her cousins, and her presence today was quite timely.

"Weasley?" Scorpius muttered under his breath. He was aghast and furious, scowling at her before she even approached the desk.

"Yes, professor?" Rose replied brightly, grabbing her satchel on her way forward. Ludwig was one of her favorites; he had taken a shine to many a Weasley cousin, until he realized just how many of them there actually were, then settled his affections on Rose. Ever-encouraging, always entertaining, he rivaled Headmaster McGonagall for the top spot in her heart at Hogwarts. Well, McGonagall and Longbottom, but Neville was more family than faculty.

Rose did not even glance at the Slytherin beside her once she came to a stop. When she could, she ignored him. In classes, in the Great Hall, during Prefect's rounds. It was her best plan of action thus far, and she had no intentions of changing it.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. You tutored James last year, did you not? In NEWT level potions?" he added, raising a brow to indicate that Scorpius should be impressed. It only caused the boy's scowl to deepen and disgust to boil under his skin.

The young Gryffindor blushed and nodded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Yes, sir, I did."

Ludwig settled contentedly back into his chair, arms folded as he eyed his favorite student with pride. "And as I recall, he received top marks, did he not?"

Again she blushed, her cheeks now rivaling her hair. "Nearly. Exceeds Expectations."

"Well, that's good enough for me."

It was Rose's turn to quirk a quizzical brow. "Good enough for what, Professor?"

"Good enough to tutor Mr. Malfoy here."

The jaws of both students dropped to the floor and they each turned equally pale. Rose recovered more quickly, swallowing hard, whereas she was sure she heard Scorpius swear under his breath.

Turning her eyes back to her professor, she started to refuse as graciously as possible. "Professor, I don't know if I have time to-"

" _You_ don't have time? _I_ don't have time! I have quidditch and-"

Scorpius may have cut Rose off but Professor Ludwig shut him down two seconds later, his booming voice accented with his Scottish brogue. "You will _not_ have quidditch unless you are tutored by Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy."

The Slytherin pressed his lips together in a flat line, further crumpling the grade report in his hand. "My father will hear about this," he muttered, venom in his words and daggers in his eyes as he dared a glance at his classmate.

"Trust me, you'd rather him hear about your marvelous tutor than failing out of Hogwarts," snapped the professor, cold and out of character.

Scor coughed at the comment, obviously of a different opinion.

In this case, Rose would have to agree with Scorpius. His father would be about as thrilled as her father when he heard that the two were working together so closely.

"For how long?" Finding her voice again, Rose steeled herself to her assignment, even though it sounded as fun as pulling teeth. The Muggle way.

Professor Ludwig's eyes softened when they turned back to the girl. "As long as it takes, Miss Weasley. You are the brightest in this subject and will set him right in no time."

Scorpius and Rose eyed each other warily.

There was nothing right about this at all.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, Weasley, let's get this over with."

Scorpius Malfoy tossed his satchel roughly into a chair at the table, then sank into a seat across from his tutor, every huff and movement echoing in the quiet library.

Rose finished the paragraph she had been writing on her scroll for Potions before looking up at him. "Someone's in a good mood," she remarked, setting her quill aside.

At Professor Ludwig's insistence, they had begun their tutoring sessions that very day. Rose retreated to the library after dinner and Scorpius, who had promised to meet her, was half an hour late.

"If that's what you want to call it," he returned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Neither was happy about the arrangement, but there was very little to be done. Scorpius needed to pass potions, and Rose did not want to let Professor Ludwig down. She would need his help and recommendation to get into the healers program at St. Mungo's after graduation.

Snatching her scroll, Scorpius quirked his head and began scanning her loopy script. "So, three feet on… Murtledove? Got anything good?"

"The essence of Murtlap," Rose corrected him. She reached across the table and tried to swipe the paper back from him, but he held it out of reach. "I am tutoring you, Scorpius, not letting you cheat. Give it back."

"I'm not cheating," he protested casually, kicking his feet up on the table beside him as he held the parchment further away from her. "I'm perusing."

Huffing in frustration, Rose stood from her chair and moved around the table to retrieve her parchment. "Give it here, Malfoy."

" _Give it here, Malfoy,_ " he laughed, mimicking her tone, holding it back over his head. "Didn't know I was being tutored by a Ravenclaw. And I thought a Weasley was bad enough."

Rose reached over him with a final swing, her hand wrapping around his as she wrenched his arm back towards her. His grip did not loosen, even as her fingers went white-knuckled around his, and when she finally tore the paper from his grasp it literally tore in two.

Scorpius's smirk evaporated for a split second, and a look of genuine surprise flashed over his countenance. Rose almost missed it. But her blood was boiling, rising to her cheeks as she took the two pieces of parchment and marched back to her seat.

"See, half for you. Half for me. Eh, Weasley?" Scorpius quipped, settling back into his chair with his signature smirk. His eyes were glued to her, trying to read her expression, almost cautious.

Rose gritted her teeth, staring at her hard work torn to pieces. The parchment was spellproof to keep from cheating, which meant she couldn't piece it back together.

"Can we just get this over with?" she said, sighing. Her large brown eyes were glossed and shining in the light of the fireplace, though no tears rose. At least in that she had succeeded.

Scorpius's smirked shifted as he reached for his textbooks, slamming them down on the table one by one.

Folding her torn pieces of parchment carefully, Rose tucked them into the pocket of her bag, her eyes darting at him with each thud. "I don't want to be here any more than you do, you know."

"Oh, I know," he replied, flippantly opening his textbook.

"But you're going to have to give me a reason to stay."

At this, Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Rose had to set the tone from the beginning, and show that she could hold her own. Scorpius had made her younger brother's life a torment whenever he could, but she would not let him do it to her while helping him.

Pushing his feet off the table, she continued. "I'm not doing your homework and I'm not going to baby you. You have to work at this whether or not you like working with me. Otherwise I'll quit. And you won't be able to play quidditch, which honestly is just fine by me. But I'm here to work. So _you_ better be here to work. Understand?"

Scorpius stared at her. Was he… impressed?

Whatever his expression read, he shrugged it off and found his natural smirk. "Merlin, Weasley. There's a little Slytherin in you after all. Careful, Daddy might disown you."

"Not as soon as he'd hex you," she replied, her own smirk appearing. "Come on." Rose opened her book to the appropriate page.

As they settled in, scanning p. 394, they said in unison, "Let's get this over with."

With a start, they both looked up from their books and caught each other's gaze in surprise.

Now this could be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

"So… three roonspore eggs then two parts –"

"No, three parts valerian and _then_ the eggs. Like I told you."

They had been going at it for hours. Straight after dinner, she caught his eye and gestured for him to meet her in the hall, and together Scorpius and Rose commandeered an empty classroom on the second floor to practice their potion for tomorrow's exam.

"You don't listen."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. I could have just told you to snog Audrey Piston as part of the ingredients and you wouldn't have batted an eye."

Scorpius smirked. "Now _that_ I would have heard."

Rose rolled her eyes. She had been tutoring him for over a month and their exam tomorrow would determine whether or not he played in the match on Saturday. He had been making progress until he skipped their meetings twice that week for extended Quidditch practice.

"Focus, Scor."

 _Scor_. She didn't know when the nickname had settled in on them, but his name was quite the mouthful. He, however, called her nothing but Weasley.

With a huff, he went back to his potion making, Rose watching carefully from where she sat perched on top of the desk. "Three roonspore egg– No! The valerian!" Scorpius corrected himself, nearly crushing the eggs in his fist. Rose stifled a giggle and watched him work.

Piece by piece he added the ingredients, following the notes she had carefully written out on a scrap piece of parchment. "See? I'm better at this than you think." Scor looked up at her with a grin, and she tried not to notice the glint in his eyes. They were sometime so striking that _she_ forgot to listen.

Shaking her head, a grin of her own appeared. "I'll believe it when it see it."

"And you will. Tomorrow." He dropped another ingredient in and stirred counterclockwise twice, before adding the next two. "I'll ace this potion, and then on Saturday Slytherin will beat Hufflepuff to a bloody–"

"Scor!" she cried suddenly, but it was too late.

Rose noticed at the last moment that he was adding aconite three steps too soon and his name burst from her lips just as the root dropped into the potion with a splash. There was a tall flash of blue flames before the potion spewed everywhere.

Scorpius had just enough time to duck under the table, but Rose had been seated on top of the desk, so close to the cauldron, that the potion sprayed all the way up her right arm, shoulder, and onto her neck.

"Rose!"

Rose let out a cry of pain and slipped from the desk onto the floor, her entire body shaking. She raised a hand to press against her cheek, but that only caused the flesh on her palm to burn. Scorpius ran around the side of the desk and hovered over her in a panic, his eyes wide with fear, hands outstretched towards her.

"Hospital… wing…" she gasped, struggling to push up off the floor. Rose was in so much pain and bit her bottom lip so hard that it drew blood; the room started spinning and she felt as though she was being lifted up off the ground.

It took her a moment to realize that she was, indeed, no longer laying on the cold stone floor, but that Scorpius Malfoy had pulled her up, draping her good arm around his neck, and was now shuffling her out the door and down the hall.

"Come on, Rose. We're almost there."

She sobbed into his neck as they moved, not bothering to try to watch where they were going. The pain was so intense that she was seeing spots whenever she tried, and for some reason she found his cologne comforting. Not to mention his arm tight around her waist and the sound of her name on his lips. Her first name.

They were standing at the doors of the hospital wing in what felt like seconds, and he pounded loudly on the closed double doors. "Madame Stuart!" His voice echoed down the hall and intertwined with the gong of the clock. It was past curfew.

When the doors to the hospital wing swung open, Madame Stuart gasped and ushered them inside, leading Scorpius to place Rose on the first bed they came to. "Here, put here here," she demanded, scolding him with her eyes. "What in heaven's name…" Madame Stuart appeared as though she would begin to lecture, but Rose let out another cry of pain and writhed on the bed.

Changing tactics, she huffed and moved Scorpius back towards the door. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy for bringing her straight away. Now you must go. It's curfew, I can take it from here."

"But I–"

The doors slammed in front of him, leaving Scorpius alone in the corridor, pale and stricken from the accident. On the other side of the door, Rose gasped for air and struggled against Madame Stuart's cold hands as they pressed an ointment into the sores forming on her skin.

"What on earth were you doing, Miss Weasley?" Madame Stuart asked, her voice kinder this time as she worked with the girl silently sobbing into her pillow. The wounds were deep, having burned through her clothing, trailing along her arm, shoulder, neck, and even the right side of her face.

"'S m-my f-fault," Rose managed, even the slightest movement causing her to wince in pain, which caused the damaged flesh to light afire with pain a second time.

"Your fault?" the woman, repeated, working her magic slowly, skillfully.

Rose nodded, her chin trembling, water streaking her cheeks. "M-my fault. Not h-his." Scorpius had worked so hard over the past month –when he decided to show up, that is– and she wasn't about to let him get in trouble for the accident or being out after curfew. Even if he was a Malfoy.

"I see."

Whether or not Madame Stuart believed her, Rose couldn't tell. She was too preoccupied with a searing sensation across one side of her body, and a shocking sensation in the region of her heart.

She was lying for Scorpius Malfoy.

Scorpius Malfoy who hated breathing the same air as she.

Scorpius Malfoy who despised her existence.

Scorpius Malfoy who had come to her rescue.

Scorpius Malfoy who had called her Rose.


	4. Chapter 4

"fifty six… fifty seven… fifty eight…"

"Weasley?"

Rose's concentration on counting the window panes in the hospital wing was broken by the sound of her name. The right side of her face was bandaged, which meant she had to turn to find the speaker, though she would have recognized that voice anywhere.

Her brow furrowed, causing her to wince, and she attempted a blank expression. "Scorpius? What are you doing here?"

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy lingered in the doorway of the Hospital Wing, glancing once over his shoulder toward the corridor before fully entering. "You weren't in class." It wasn't a question.

Rose smirked then winced again, lifting her bandaged hand to her bandaged cheek. "Who knew aconite could do so much damage?" she attempted a joke, but even the slightest movement of her smile threatened to undo Madame Stuart's hard work.

Her classmate moved closer, lingering at the foot of the bed. "Madame Stuart said I was lucky to find you after your accident."

Rose swallowed and averted her gaze. "She's right."

" _Your_ accident?" This time it was a question. He had a brow raised at her, unable to comprehend how he hadn't ended up with a week's worth of detention for what he'd done.

"It was an accident," Rose replied, smoothing the edge of her sheets. "Anyone could have done it."

"Not you." He wasn't letting her off the hook.

"Scor, please. It's not a big deal." Of all things, she never expected him to be upset with her for taking the blame. In fact, after his exam she doubted he would have a reason to speak to her again.

However, he remained at the foot of her bed, gaping at her in a very un-Scorpius like manner. "Rose, I nearly burnt your face off."

At that she laughed, and then her nose crinkled as she fought back tears, pressing both palms to her cheeks to put pressure to the pain. "I'm fine," she breathed when the worst of it subsided. "Did you pass your exam?"

Scorpius shifted, reaching into his bag, and when his eyes found hers again, his smirk had returned. "Exceeds Expectations."

"Good! Ow…" Rose really had to stop getting excited, or having any kind of emotion at all, at least until she healed.

"Merlin's beard, Rose," Scorpius chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't rip the bloody thing back open."

Rose gave a pathetic pout and patted the bandage on her cheek, not daring to think about what a pitiful sight she must be. Madame Stuart had patched her up, but the potion was strong, and it would take three or four days for her wounds to close entirely, then nearly a week for the swelling to go down.

"Looks like you'll get to play in the match after all." This time she kept her smile away, but it was in her eyes and her voice all the same.

Scor shoved the paper back into his bag. "All thanks to you."

Rose feigned surprise. "Did Scorpius Malfoy just say thank you?"

"Oh, shove off," he replied, but his smirk grinned at her. "I still don't see why you told her it was your fault," Scor added, his voice low. "I should be in loads of trouble for that."

"Well, you're not," she replied, suddenly fidgety. "It just came out. I wasn't thinking straight last night, you saw me."

A strange look flashed in his eyes as he recalled the catastrophe, and the concern on his brow bothered her. "Scor, seriously. Let it go. Can't you see it's not a big deal."

He expelled a slow breath, unconvinced.

"Besides, do you seriously want a howler from my father for trying to kill me?"

Like magic, his smirk reappeared. "No, thanks. I get enough of those from my father." The corner of his mouth twitched as if he had just revealed too much, so Rose decided to let the moment drop. He changed the subject before she could have replied anyway. "Are you going to the match tomorrow?"

Rose shook her head and raised her right arm. She looked like a mummy. "I can't. It's supposed to rain, and Madame Stuart has me in here through Monday."

Scorpius nodded.

Something was off. Rose couldn't read him as easily as she was used to. Maybe he felt guilty for putting her in the hospital wing. Two months ago she would never have thought him capable of feeling guilt, shame, or care for another person, but he was human, no matter how he may deny it.

They spent hours together each week pouring over textbooks and potions, him doing anything to avoid studying and her trying everything she could to keep him on track. In the halls and in other classes they ignored each other, as per usual, but something was different. She could see it in his eyes here and now.

"Good luck though," she said brightly, genuinely. This, too, confused him. Rose had never seen him at such a loss for words or with so blank an expression. It was almost laughable. "Scor, relax. You look like you've seen a ghost."

This snapped him back to reality, and a smug smirk took over his features as he adjusted his bag. "A ghoul, actually, or maybe a troll," he teased, gesturing to her bandages.

"Okay, don't be that relaxed," she laughed, this time ignoring the pain in favor of the smile. "You can go back to insulting me next week. Keep feeling guilty for at least a few more days. Or I might change my mind and turn you in." Rose didn't mean for him to actually feel guilty, and she had no plans of turning him in. But she liked this easy rhythm. It was new.

The door to Madame Stuart's office opened, grabbing both of their attention.

"I should go," he said, backing up towards the door.

Rose nodded, though she had the sudden urge to ask him to stay. Instead she simply watched him on his way, her brow furrowing when he lingered awkwardly in the doorway.

"I'm fine," she repeated, waving him off.

Scorpius hesitated still. Finally, finding his voice he said, "Thanks, Rose," before slipping out the door. She barely had time to register his comment before he poked his head back in saying, "But if you tell anyone about this, I will–"

"Just go!" she laughed, her smile sliding into a wince and a moan as she sank back into her pillows, clutching her cheek.

Rose could have sworn she heard his laugh before the blonde disappeared from sight. She couldn't see him any more, and luckily he couldn't see her. Even with the pain, and even covered in bandages, her smile was wide and steady. And that was all his fault.


	5. Chapter 5

"Merlin, look at her face. No wonder they kept her locked up."

Audrey Piston's shrill laugh carried down the main staircase into the entry hall, and Rose was positive it was intentional.

Her wounds became infected the Sunday after the incident, leaving her in the hospital wing five days longer than expected. Instead of returning to class on Monday, she was quarantined to the only private room in the entire wing. No visitors, no moving about the castle, just lots of acrid smelling ointments and hourly bandage changes. Her books were her only comfort.

It was once again Saturday, the last Hogsmeade trip of the year, and Madame Stuart had given Rose clearance to go. Her scars would heal in another week's time, her neck and shoulder still bandaged, but her cheek was in the open air, and it was now turning twelve shades of pink.

Rose pulled her scarf up even higher as she, Albus Severus, and Alice moved through the corridors toward the courtyard.

"It looks fine," Alice said softly, linking her arm with Rose.

Laughing half-heartedly, Rose threw her friend a look. "You're a rotten liar. But thanks."

Even over the hustle and bustle of eager third years and mischievous sixth years, Audrey's voice continued to float in their direction.

"I mean, for Godric's sake, why does he have her tutoring you if she can't even keep from blowing herself up? It's ridiculous."

Rose dared a glance over her shoulder, and instantly her eyes connected with those of Scorpius Malfoy.

His companion had her arm draped loosely around his waist and had forced his arm around her shoulders, clinging to his hand so tight Rose was sure her nails would pierce his skin. In this moment, Rose did not recognize the boy sauntering among the rest of the Slytherins.

The boy who had carried her to safety after the explosion was wearing a smirk of disgust that made her want to sink into the floor.

The boy who had checked on her in the hospital wing was standing idly by as her appearance was torn to shreds for all to hear.

The boy who, she suspected, had brought a new book to Madame Stuart every night of her confinement to help her pass the time was looking right through her, as if she didn't exist.

Rose turned to face forward again and held even tighter to Alice, tuning back into Albus's attempt to drown out the taunting. He was regaling them with tales of James's latest discoveries in Romania with their Uncle Charlie, but she heard none of it.

All she could hear was the laughter of a young man she had grown to like a surprising amount.

All she could feel was each laugh pointed directly at her, shooting daggers through her already riddled skin.

All she could think about was how immensely thankful she was that she no longer had to tutor Scorpius Malfoy.

All she could do was keep moving forward, blaming the water in her eyes on the crisp winter wind.

And it was all she could do to keep from seeking his gaze one more time.


	6. Chapter 6

"You two go ahead, I need new gloves. I'll be along in a minute."

Hogsmeade was crowded, energized, and dusted in snow. The clouds overhead rumored that another frozen layer was on its way, and the cold steered students into shops and cozy cafe corners with great success.

Rose, Albus, and Alice were working their way towards her uncle's joke shop when she remembered that her quidditch gloves were sporting well worn holes and needed to be replaced before their next game. Her father owled that morning to mention he'd be at the joke shop all afternoon, and he wanted to see her especially after the accident.

Her errand would not take long.

Moving into Shepherd's Snitch Shoppe, Rose kicked the snow from her boots on the coarse rug by the door, and breathed in the smell of leather, broom polish, and cinnamon. Mrs. Shepherd loved her cinnamon candles, and her husband loved her enough to humor them.

"Ello, Rose," the latter greeted her with a broad-toothed grin, rising from his chair behind the register. His expression changed when she pulled off her knit cap and he noticed the scars on her cheek. "Blimey! Your dad told me you'd been hurt but.."

"Oh, Jasper, hush. Don't make the poor thing feel worse." Bette emerged from one of the long aisles of Quidditch gear, waving off her husband's comment. "What can we help you find, deary?"

Rose appreciated the woman's kindness, but still subconsciously pulled her scarf up around her neck. "New gloves. I wore the last ones to pieces," she added with a laugh.

"Not to worry, dear. Those'll be on the back shelf. Just there."

Rose nodded and started in that direction. "Thanks." Slipping out of sight, she let her fingers trail along the shelves, running over the leather spines of Quidditch histories, product manuals, and beginners guides alike. When she reached the back of the store, she scanned the display and lifted a pair of dragon hide gloves to examine them more closely.

The Weasley clan was a quidditch family through and through. Her father rooted for the Chudley Cannons, as did Hugo, while Rose had been a fan of the Holyhead Harpies, the team for which her Aunt Ginny had played for most of her growing up years. Hermione rooted for Puddlemere, but only half-heartedly to tease her husband.

As the cousin count grew, teams naturally formed, and every family gathering held a match or two. She and Roxanne were chasers on the family team and now the Gryffindor team, and James had played Keeper until his graduation last spring. Rose did not want to pursue a career in the sport, but it was in her blood and a favored break from the books she loved so much.

Rose set the gloves back on the shelf and removed her winter mittens. She reached for the left hand and slipped the soft leather over her fingers, stretching her hand wide and gripping a tight fist over and over again.

"Careful there, Weasley. It's quidditch, not boxing."

A voice to her right surprised her, just as she caught sight of a long, slender white hand reaching for the other glove. Scorpius Malfoy smirked down at her and assessed the leather in hand.

Rose looked up at him with a blank expression, but her eyes threw daggers at him as she held out her hand. "My glove, please."

"No ' _Give it here, Malfoy'_?" he teased, sliding the right glove onto his own hand and repeating her motion from a moment before. "Besides they're not your gloves. Not yet."

Sighing, she removed the left glove with several sharp pulls of the material over her fingers, her gaze breaking with his and studying the grain of the dark wood display. "Fine, they're all yours."

Rose tossed the other glove onto the shelf and snatched her mittens. She had no desire to deal with him right now. What was wrong with her? He owed her nothing, he had said nothing, that was true, but the comments of his fellow Slytherin that morning burned hotter than her wounds.

A smirk played at his lips as he, too, removed the glove he wore, slowly and deliberately. "What's got your wand in a knot, Weasley?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Scor, don't."

"Don't what?"

She nearly laughed, rolling her eyes. "Don't pretend we're friends."

It was his turn to stare blankly at her, though a smirk lingered in his eyes. "Don't know what you're talking about. Sure you didn't hit your head when you fell?"

"When I _fell_?" Rose's brow furrowed in hurt and confusion. Had he actually begun to blame her for the incident? To believe the things his friends were saying? "Scor, I know about the books."

"What books?" Scorpius quirked an eyebrow at her and shrugged, toying aimlessly with the gloves in his hands, having picked the second up off the shelf.

Gaping at him, Rose studied his face. He had sought her out, hadn't he? He had gone from laughing at her to laughing with her over cauldrons, had he not? But was he back to making her feel the fool? Rose stared up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition.

Finally, a sad half laugh pushed through her lips. "What do you want, Scor? Do you even know?"

Scorpius chuckled and shook his head. "You're talking nonsense, Weasley. I know exactly what I want. New quidditch gloves, a Supernova 12, fame and–"

"I took the fall for you."

Scorpius shrugged, keeping his eye on the dragon-hide in his palms.

Rose scoffed at herself, her eyes dark with confusion and hurt. "I can't believe I took the fall for you."

His gray gaze remained cold, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Nobody asked you to do that."

"Yeah, well… I'm asking you to."

Scorpius rolled his eyes, a scowl forming at his lips, incredulous. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper, further spurning her anger. "Merlin, Rose, what do you think–"

"I think," she began, her voice rising in pitch and volume, "that the next time your _girlfriend_ says–"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," Scorpius interjected, pointing a finger at her.

"Fine," she said, swatting it away. "When your _fling of the wee_ k get's a kick out of saying I look like acrumple-horned snorkack, the least you could do _–"_

 _"_ A _what_?"

Rose huffed. "It's this… thing that…" What was she saying? Why was she explaining this to him? An honestly, what did she expect? "You know what, never mind! I don't even care anymore. Good luck in potions, Malfoy."

Abandoning her errand, Rose brushed past Scorpius, knocking roughly into his shoulder on her way toward the door. She said not a word to the Shepherds as she pushed out into the cold, the wind biting her bare fingers as though it were laughing at her, a reminder of the catastrophe moments before.

She whirled into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in a huff, shaking the snow from her hair as she made her way toward her cousins huddled by the newest display.

"Hey, did you get the… gloves?" Albus's words faltered, noting the glint in her eye, and with one shake of her head he knew not to press the issue. Ron rounded the corner and swept his daughter into his grasp to look over her wounds, and she forced a bright smile.

She was on the mend. She was recovering. And she was steeling her heart against any further slip ups, which meant she was fine. Wasn't she?


	7. Chapter 7

The library was brimming with students, only this time more than those clad in blue and silver gathered around study tables and filled the aisles. Winter exams were a week and a half away, and a thick blanket of snow sent most students indoors.

Rose had taken to the grounds with her cousins for a rousing snowball fight after lunch, and it had taken her all the way through dinner to defrost. Her nose was still pink from the affair, her hair slightly damp, and she had hoped to warm up by the fireplace but a troupe of Hufflepuffs had already commandeered it. Instead, she took to the stairs and found a table on the landing overlooking the rest of the library.

Her Wednesday night was spent studying in peace, for the most part, as Albus and Alice were "reviewing for Herbology" in the greenhouses. She knew better, but she gave them nothing but a smirk and a sigh when they excused themselves after barely a half hour.

She had just begun annotating chapter eight when a soft thud caused her to look up from the parchment.

Two dragon-hyde gloves lay atop her textbook. A scarf of silver and green swung behind them.

"What's this?" Rose pressed her lips into a flat line, staring at the gloves. She refused to look up at him.

The blonde shoved his hands into his pockets, not that she noticed. "A truce."

Rolling her eyes, she brushed the gloves off her book and onto the table, then dipped her quill in the inkwell before going back to her notes. "Yeah. Right."

The gloves reappeared on top of the recipe for Orpington's Opulence, but this time a slender, pale hand lingered atop them. She tried not to notice how nice the gloves actually were.

"Can't I do something nice for a friend?"

Rose nearly snorted, and her gaze found his for the first time. "We're not friends."

Two weeks ago, she might have wagered that a friendship was forming, but now she had no such thoughts. Anything that had passed between them had faded faster than her scars from their mishap with the last attempt at civility.

But Scorpius would not give up. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sank to a seat. She could not read his expression.

"Then for my tutor."

Rose dropped her quill into the ink and folded her arms over her chest. "There it is."

A smug look of feigned innocence washed over him. "What?"

Again she rolled her eyes, incredulous as she reached for the gloves. Snatching them out of his hand, she held them up flippantly. "It's a bribe."

He made no efforts to refute her, only shrugged, a familiar glint in his eye. Rose looked at the gloves with caution. They were more beautiful and more expensive than the ones she had tried on in Shepherd's Shoppe on Saturday, and after their confrontation Rose had made a point not to return for the rest of the outing. The match against Ravenclaw was on Saturday and her old gloves would not hold up to the winter weather.

"And why should I help you?" With a huff, she tossed them on the table between them, folding her arms again. "It obviously worked out so well last time."

Scorpius mirrored her, arms folded over his chest. "I can't play quidditch next term if I don't pass."

"And I care because…? That's why _you_ need tutoring, _not_ why I should give you a second chance."

He appeared to mull it over for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, but it vanished so quickly she thought she made it up. "Ah, Weasley, I already apologized for the–"

"Apologized?" Rose gaped at him, letting out a laugh in disbelief that caused the Ravenclaw down the aisle to shush him. Dropping her voice, she leaned forward slightly. "You never apologized–"

"I sent you the books, didn't I?" he whispered back, his eyes suddenly searching.

So it had been him. She had begun to think it was Albus or Hugo. But Rose wouldn't give in so easily. Reaching for her bag, she pulled two of the volumes out and shoved them back towards him. "Here then. Take them back. Let them tutor you."

"Rose…" Scorpius covered his eyes with his hand briefly before dropping it back to the table, gripping the gloves in a clenched fist.

She watched him carefully, noting his walls beginning to slip. It was rare, and it was brief, but it had happened more than once during their study sessions, and it had led her to believe he had a human heart in there somewhere.

Still, she was't giving in. Not yet. "Why should I help you?"

His gaze dropped to the gloves and he passed them from hand to hand, stalling. When he gave no answer, Rose began to pack her things.

"Rose, I won't pass if you don't help me. You don't understand. I need quidditch."

Rose. He'd said her first name twice. She hated how wonderful it sounded on his lips. Her packing slowed and she mulled it over, her eyes on her satchel. Slowly, the gloves slid across the table into her view.

"We're still not friends." Her eyes flickered over to him.

It was his turn to press his lips into a flat line, failing to hide a smirk. "I never said we were."

Rose picked up the gloves and waved them at him. "And it's still a bribe."

"So?"

She knew she shouldn't. She knew it would be a complete waste of time. And she knew it would only end in disaster, as it had before.

Scorpius grinned up at her, triumph in his eyes. "Is it working?"

"…maybe."


	8. Chapter 8

Snow fell in droves over the grounds, long-since filling the thousands of footprints that led to the Quidditch Pitch. More than a few Ravenclaw lingered by the fires in the library, but the rest of Hogwarts braved the cold, bundling up to watch Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in the final match of the fall term.

Gryffindor was ahead by 150 points and was the favorite of the match, but the winter weather had set their pace back. The seekers were managing fairly well, but the seekers of both teams were having trouble finding the snitch in the snowstorm.

Finally, with the score Hufflepuff 40, Gryffindor 190, the crowds thinning and the teams turning blue from the cold, James shot upward. He had seen the snitch. The cheers grew louder while the snow blew harder, and both seekers took off toward the south end of the Pitch.

When it looked like the game was had, a bludger had caught James in the shoulder just before reaching the flighty golden orb to secure the win.

The Hufflepuff seeker, Carson Holt, had never been as fast as James, but he had tailed his competition most of the match. Now with a Gryffindor seeker out of the running, the entire audience gasped when it looked like the game might fall to the badgers.

Snow was still falling in droves, the November air blistering cold, but the teams plowed on. Rose watched it all in horror, the quaffle tucked under her arm as she shook with the cold. Her grip around the broom tightened with one hand, and the other gestured toward her cousin. _Blast it all,_ she thought to herself; she was grateful for the gifted gloves.

Rose kept at it, determined to beat her own scoring record and clench the win. She kept an eye on Carson, and on her signal Roxanne set into motion their latest trick play. It was risky, and if it failed the game would end with a tie. If it worked, Rose would have scored ten goals in the course of the match setting her own personal record, securing the win.

"It's a bird…"

Carson's arm stretched out towards the unseen snitch; Rose gripped the quaffle tighter and barreled toward the rings.

"It's a plane…"

Rose faked to Roxanne, successfully sending the two chasers on her tail toward her cousin. Meanwhile, in one clean sweep Rose swung under her broom and back over it, borrowing a move her Aunt Ginny had perfected fifteen years ago. She had one chance to make this work.

"It's… it's….it's ROSE WEASLEY for the win! Holt has caught the snitch but GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

While Devlin Tanner's Muggle movie reference was lost on more than half the students filling the Pitch, its subject was more than pleased. Rose Weasley felt exactly like Superman as the quaffel soared past the Hufflepuff keeper and through the center ring mere seconds before Holt snagged the snitch.

The match was over. The move worked. Gryffindor had won.

Rose was frozen to the bone, but she didn't care, and she rounded the pitch in victory twice before joining her team in the locker room. The Gryffindors practically carried Rose and Roxanne to the castle, though the cousins broke away with a large gathering of students sporting every house color to check on James in the Hospital wing. The party started there and thundered through the corridors until it took off full force in Gryffindor tower, lasting until well after two o'clock.

When Rose finally clamored up the steps to her dormitory, she collapsed onto her bed in content. However before her face hit the pillow, a crisp sheet of parchment pressed against her cheek. Pulling away in confusion, she unfolded the paper, brow furrowed and heart beating fast.

The rough script was instantly recognized.

 _Well done, Weasley._

The note itself would have been enough to dance her into dreamland, but it was the final line which plastered a grin to her lips that lingered through breakfast.

 _By the way, nice gloves._


	9. Chapter 9

Rose slept through breakfast. The Sunday after the soon-to-be-infamous quidditch win deserved to be lazy, in her humble opinion. When she finally pulled herself from beneath the covers, a fire blazing in the old fashioned stove, Rose swung her legs over the bed groggily. Her nose crinkled when her feet hit the floor, and a laugh bubbled from her lips when she found confetti first stuck to the bottom of her heel and then again when she saw it in her hair in the mirror.

The Gryffindors' celebration had lasted well into the night, and Rose could still hear the chants ringing out in her memory. Another step towards the lavatory caused her brow to furrow. More paper was found underfoot, but this time a slow, knowing grin plastered itself on her lips.

"By the way, nice gloves," the final line read, and no signature followed.

Scorpius Malfoy was a puzzle, indeed. Rose thought as much as she folded the paper away into her trunk, tucked safely away with letters from her parents, Gran, and Beauxbaton pen pal.

As she floated towards the shower, she replayed her time as his tutor over and over again in her mind. She had been wary, hopeful, entertained, then defeated, all in a span of six weeks' time. Somewhat of a friendship had formed, until he forgot his end of the unspoken bargain and fed her to the wolves among his fellow Slytherins. She had taken the wrap for him when a potion gone wrong landed her in the hospital wing, and he had repaid her by letting Aubrey Pince smear her name with vicious laughter.

Rose and Scorpius had a confrontation later that day in the aisles of a Hogsmeade quidditch shop, and she refused then and there to continue to help him. She had done her best to put the incident and her former pupil from her mind, but then he attempted to bribe his way back into her graces with a pair of expensive quidditch gloves.

Wrapped in a towel, her red curls dripping onto the hardwood floor, Rose spotted said gloves at the foot of her bed. His bribe had worked.

When she emerged into the land of the living, breakfast was at an end, and students were filtering out onto the grounds for a jaunt in the snow or retreating to the library to finish –and in some cases begin- assignments due the following day. As luck would have it, a certain fifth year Slytherin and his posse stepped into the entry way just as Rose descended the stairs.

Scorpius caught her eye and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though he remained in conversation with Patricia Nott and her brother Derrick. He turned to move with them toward the dungeons.

"Scorpius, wait."

The sound of her voice surprised all four of them, and the trio ahead of her turned in confusion.

"What do you want, Weasley?" snapped Patricia, linking her arm with Scorpius possessively.

Rose straightened her posture and continued toward them. "I'd like to talk to Scorpius, _Patty,"_ she replied, lingering on the nickname. The brunette despises being called Patty with a religious conviction, and her eyes shot daggers at Rose.

Scorpius seemed amused at the standoff, and skillfully released himself from his companion's grip. "I'll meet you in the common room, Trish." His remark calmed her, though her glare still snapped in Rose's direction before she and Derrick continued on their way.

The entry hall was fairly empty at this, save a bustling bunch of third years hurrying to catch the tail end of breakfast; even so, Scorpius dropped his voice when he said, "I imagine you got my note," clearing his throat once finished as if to deny speaking at all.

Rose, too, spoke softly, though she steeled herself for what was to come. "I did. And I've thought about it."

He quirked an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Tutoring you again."

Triumph glinted in his eyes and a smirk spread wide across his face. "I knew you'd come to your—"

"There are conditions." Rose cut him off, raising a hand to halt him.

This surprised him, but his smirk lingered. "Conditions?" he repeated.

"Yes." Rose held his gaze, trying to ignore the amused light in his gray eyes as she lifted a finger to indicate her requirements. "First, we meet when I say and where I say." No more hiding in the back corners of the library or tutoring sessions being ditched for quidditch practice.

Scorpius's eyes narrowed, but he did not protest. "I'm listening."

"Second," Rose continued, lifting another neatly manicured finger, "no more mocking, tripping, teasing, or torturing Weasleys. Me and my family are off limits. Not Hugo, not Albus, not –"

"Merlin's beard, that's the entire school," he scoffed, eyes rolling. "You're my tutor, not my girlfriend. I can say whatever I bloody well want about whoever I bloody well—"

"Fine," Rose snapped at him. "Leave Hugo, Lily, and Albus out of it."

Again his gaze narrowed, and the scoff melted into a smirk. "And what about you?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I know it brings you so much pleasure, so fine. Have at it. But not when I'm around, alright?" If nothing else, Rose could at least help her family receive less of his well-aimed jabs and jaunts. She didn't care what he said or thought about her anyway. Right?

Scorpius's gaze wandered around the entry hall as if looking for an escape. When his eyes settled on her once more, the familiar glint was back. "No more conditions?"

"No more conditions." Rose folded her arms over her chest and looked up at him. "Do we have a deal?"

His smirk, ever present, twitched as he nodded. "It's a deal."

Rose exhaled in relief and triumph. "Good. We start tonight at seven. In the library. Don't be late." With that, Rose turned on her heel and scurried into the Great Hall to catch the last of breakfast. When she reached her seat, she dared a glance back toward the door and was surprised to find her pupil still fixated in the middle of the entry way.

Scorpius lingered a moment longer, then headed for the dungeons as originally intended. Was it her imagination or did he wink at her when he nodded and walked away? Rose brushed away the thought and buttered her scone.

Maybe she should have come up with more conditions. And maybe she needed to give her own beating heart a good talking to.


	10. Chapter 10

Winter at Hogwarts was her favorite time of year. Rose loved the way snow dusted the treetops and the turrets, the continuous roar of fires in the common room and library, and the general good cheer of students bustling in the corridors between classes.

The stress of mid-year exams was at an all time high as the first round took place in less than ten hours. The library was teeming with students of all ages, even though the curfew bell lurked merely ten minutes away. The most unlikely pair made themselves at home by the fire, books spread wide and piled high for the better part of three hours. Rose's auburn curls were pulled to one side in a fraying braid that she had undone and redone six times. Her blonde partner had his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the table, as they memorize the final potion.

"One more time," she said, blue eyes clamped tight shut and brow furrowed as she recalled their song. It was to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas, thanks to the inspirational antics of Peeves the Poltergeist who had sung twenty-four rounds until the librarian finally ushered him away.

"Once dried nettles, twice crushed fangs, slugs with three horns and…." Rose held out the last note, eyeing Scorpius hopefully. "And…." she repeated, gesturing with her hand for him to finish their rhyme.

"And really bad eggs," he grumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. An hour ago he had been willing to play along with her memory tactics. Now… not so much.

Rose sighed and threw him a look. "Scor…"

"What?" Dragging his palms across his eyes and cheeks, he met Rose's exasperated frown with a look of exhaustion, his lips squished together comedically. "We've been doing this for _hours_ …" His gray eyes rolled and his forehead hit the book in front of him with a thud.

"It's exam week," she replied, poking the top of his head with the tip of her finger repeatedly. "Of course we've been at this for hours. You want to pass, don't you?"

Scorpius grunted and batted away her hand without looking up. Rose laughed and continued to poke at him, messing up his once perfectly coiffed blonde locks. He had run his hands through them so many times in the course of the night that they now fell every which way, and Rose thought he looked even more dashing when they fell into his eyes.

Yes, he was dashing, she thought, particularly when he let a true smile appear, but he was also arrogant, selfish, rude, and easily distracted. Their evening study session had been interrupted more than once by his mates, his affinity for paper airplane making, and his growling stomach.

Rose caught herself recalling his smiles and cleared her throat to wipe the thought away. They needed to get back to business as their potion final was first thing in the morning. "Once dried nettles, twice crushed fangs," she sang again, poking him with each number, "slugs with three horns and…"

Scorpius continued to wave her hand away until, on the last line, he caught her fingers in his and held them tight. "…and five porcupine quills," he murmured in tune, lifting his head from the book ever so slowly until their eyes met.

Rose's smile spread wide and her eyes danced in the light of the fire. Their hands remained entangled across the table between them, but neither of them made any motion to let go. "See? I knew you knew it."

Scorpius chuckled and settled into his signature smirk. "Of course I knew it. You've been singing it at me since dinner. Bloody annoying is what it is."

"You'll thank me when you get O's on all your examinations," she replied with a grin, pointing at him though her hand remained captive in his.

He seemed to notice their connection for the first time and released her hand with a flippant wave. "With my luck, that's all I'll be able to remember, and I'll get a piss Poor on everything."

"Not with my tutoring you won't. You'll be off on holiday with a pocket full of E's at least."

The reminder of the holiday did not sit well with him, and his smirk faded into a frown. "Some holiday," he grumbled, the moment between them evaporating as he began packing up his things.

Her brow furrowed, confused at his sudden deflation. "I thought you'd be glad for the break. Three whole weeks without seeing me or a potion's book." Rose offered him a playful smile but his eyes remained on the contents of his satchel as he stuffed them away.

She tried a different tactic, mirroring his movements as she packed her own things."Don't tell me you're stuck with Patty for three weeks. I'd be sore about going home, too."

This, thankfully, brought a quiet chuckle from him. "Nah, Trish and her family holiday in Spain," Scor returned, and with a wave of his wand their study materials floated to their proper shelves. "It'll just be me, Mum, and Dad for Christmas. I won't miss the classes, but I'll be damned if the break makes me fall behind on the quidditch team."

It was the first year that either of them started on their house teams, so Rose understood his worries. Underage wizards could fly on a broom, but wizarding law still prevented them from making any further magic outside of school walls. Plus, Rose had a built in quidditch league of cousins; he, on the other hand, was an only child.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. You're the fastest seeker in school, so I'm sure that–" Rose cut herself off, coloring pink. "Well, after James that is," she corrected quickly, averting her gaze. She'd turn positively red if she had to watch his grin spread from ear to ear.

"No, you said _I'm_ the fastest in the school," he recalled, pointing a fair-skinned finger at her then at himself. "You said it. I heard it."

"Once dried nettles…" she began singing, pretending not to have heard him as she tidied their table. "Twice crushed fangs…"

Scorpius laughed and rolled his eyes at her, and they both pushed back from the table.

"Slugs with three horns and…" Rose held her breath, moving around the table to stand beside him. "And…"

"…and five porcupine quills," they finished together before laughter overtook them both. The librarian shushed them and several wary glances were sent their way. Scor nodded toward the door and they made their exit together.

"I got it, I got it," he said when she started to sing again in the corridor, waving her off and rolling his eyes. "If I remember nothing else, I'll remember that tomorrow."

"Good," said Rose, adjusting the strap of her satchel as they moved toward the hall of stairs. "You'll do fine, I'm sure."

"Yeah," Scor shrugged. When he continued, he dropped his voice and gave her a sideways smile, one she nearly missed in the dark light of the hallway. "Thanks to you."

Rose fought her own smile and kept her gaze forward. "I'm your tutor. It's what I'm here for."

They moved together onto the landing, waiting for a staircase to settle into place on either side of them. One to take her up to Gryffindor tower, and one to lead him into the Slytherin dungeons.

"I mean it," he added, daring a glance over his shoulder. His reputation was at stake after all, being kind to a Weasley. "Thanks."

"Thank me when you've passed," she replied, offering him a genuine smile. In moments like this, everything felt so much simpler. But the green in his tie and the red in her scarf, not to mention their families' pasts made everything far from simple.

The staircases settled into place simultaneously, and the pair turned their respective ways. "See you tomorrow, yeah?" said Rose, gripping the railing as her lift moved away from him.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever, Weasley," he replied, turning his back to her.

The noise on the landing clued her into the fact that they were no longer alone, and she wondered what his reply might have been if solitude had lingered a moment longer. Scorpius Malfoy was a puzzle, as he always had been, but he was also a potions partner she wasn't ready to lose.


	11. Chapter 11

_"On the last day of potions my true love gave to me…"_

Rose hummed to herself absentmindedly, finishing her last paragraph of the potions exam essay with a flourish. The two hours was nearly up, and it had taken her longer than usual to ace the exam. She was sure she aced it, but she was also sure that it was entirely a blonde Slytherin's fault that she was one of the last left in the classroom.

She had been more worried about his marks than her own, and she had glanced his way so many times over the course of the test that she was surprised Professor Ludwig had not reprimanded her for cheating. He knew she had no need to cheat, of course, and would easily assume her concern was for her pupil's success and reflection of her tutoring expertise. Little did he know that she was indeed concerned for her pupil but for far different reasons.

Rose continued to hum as she rolled her essay parchment and secured it with a bit of twine before taking the vial of her test potion in hand and walking them to the front desk. When she passed Scorpius's station, she heard him humming their memory tune and her smile widened, the secret of their friendship –and of the depth of her own feelings– tugging at the corner of her lips.

When she placed her potion and parchment on his desk, Ludwig nodded and received her submissions with a pudgy grin, then waved her on her way out the door. She turned and found herself mere inches from another student, nearly colliding with his green and silver emblazoned chest.

"Oh! Sorry, Scor," she apologized quickly, attempting to side step the young man. He, however, also stepped right.

When she stepped left, he stepped left, and the two continued in the dance an awkward moment longer before a laugh escaped them both. "Watch it, Weasley" he said, finally skirting around her. His tone was harsh, reminiscent of their many corridor tiffs from years past, but the light in his eye was playful.

Rose rolled her eyes at him and fought a smile, scurrying out into the hallway before anyone could notice. She was nearly to the stairs when she heard an "Oy, Weasley," coming from behind her. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

Scorpius jogged slightly to catch up with her, then fell into step at her side.

"So," she began, glancing up at him, "How do you think you did?"

"Piss poor probably," he sighed dramatically. "I had a rotten tutor. I blame her."

"Oh, hush," Rose laughed, elbowing him playfully.

He bumped her in return, his own laugh joining hers, and her heart began to pound twice as fast. "Fine. Better than poor, I think. Those bloody songs actually helped."

Rose grinned. She and Albus had been memorizing in songs since second year. "I told you they would. Now the rest of your exams will be a piece of cake."

She took four more steps before realizing he was no longer walking with her. Scorpius was frozen in the middle of the hall, a look of shock and horror on his face.

"What?" Rose asked quickly, concern rising. "What is it?"

"My other exams," he said, the color draining from his face. "I forgot about my other exams."

"You WHAT?!" Rose exclaimed, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth as her voice ricocheted off the stone walls. "Merlin's beard, Scor!"

They had Charms later that afternoon, Herbology and Transfiguration the following day, and Defense Against the Dark Arts and Arithmancy would finish out the week on Thursday.

Rose began pacing. "Okay. Okay, there's not much we can do about Charms unless we lock ourselves in the library over lunch. Then you and I can work through the Herbology notes after dinner, and we…"

Her voice trailed when she heard a burst of laughter at her side, and she whirled to face him. The look on his face said it all: he was completely joking.

"Scorpius Malfoy, you arse!" she laughed, swatting him with her satchel.

Another chuckle escaped him as he threw up his hands in defense. "The look on your face," he smirked, fighting his laughter and skillfully regaining his composure "Some Gryffindor you are. Sure you don't really disappear Ravenclaw tower every night?"

"Oh, ha. Ha. Ha," she replied, her words dripping with sarcasm but her eyes dancing in delight. "I was _going_ to help you, you know. Trying to save your arse from failing all your classes instead of just potions."

Scorpius folded his arms over his chest and raised a brow at her. "One, I'm not going to fail potions. And two, that's twice you've mentioned my arse now. Should I be concerned?"

Rose instantly colored. She may or may not have noticed that particular feature, but he needn't know it. Clearing her throat, she replied, "I called _you_ an arse, remember? And you're right, you won't fail potions because I'm a bloody good tutor. Ravenclaw or not."

In the course of the argument, however playful, they had fallen back into step and worked their way to the end of the corridor. They paused at the large stained glass window, snow falling over the grounds on the other side of the colored panes.

Scor's smirk remained and he gave her a once over. "You're certainly no Ravenclaw."

Rose frowned and mimicked his posture, folding her arms over her chest. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Merlin, Rose," he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You get mad if I call you one and mad if I say you aren't one. What's a guy gotta do to make you happy?"

Rose had been too surprised by the sound of her first name on his lips to pay much heed to the rest of his question. This rhythm had been easy to fall into and she hoped it never ended.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she replied with a smirk of her own, standing to her full height which still left him towering over her.

He seemed to ponder her reply for a long moment before shaking his head and letting his gray eyes roll once more. "Whatever, Weasley."

Her lips pursed together in a playful pout. "Arse."

"Know it all."

"Slytherin."

"Ravenclaw."

They both laughed, and then a comfortable silence settled over them. Rose rocked back and forth on her toes absentmindedly, and Scor ran a hand through his hair.

"So you really did study for your exams?" she asked finally. She couldn't help herself. Rose was willing to help him if he truly needed it.

Scorpius nodded, letting his gaze wander down the hall. More students were filing out of the potions classroom and headed their way. "I did. I'm not that stupid."

"I wouldn't be so sure," she teased, readjusting the strap of her bag.

"Ha, ha," he replied, unable to hide his grin. "I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

"You're getting good at that."

"What?"

"Saying thank you."

Scorpius made a face, but a grin lingered on the edge of his smirk. "Don't get used to it."

"I won't." The corridor grew louder as students headed their way, and Rose angled away from him, albeit unwillingly. "Well, I promised Al I'd help him study for Charms, so I should go. Duty calls."

"The mark of a true Raven." Scorpius held up his hands in surrender and added quickly, "Kidding. Of course."

"Mhmm…" Rose truly needed to meet Al, but she was enjoying this more than she should probably admit. "I'll see you in class though, yeah? And don't you whatever, Weasley me. I'm over that."

Scor grinned. "Whatever, _Rose._ And yeah. See you in Charms then. Good luck." With that, he turned away from her and made for the dungeons, but not without a glance over his shoulder.

"You too," she replied, though she doubted he heard her. She barely heard her own voice over the sound of her pounding heart.

Albus and Alice were among the approaching group, and her cousin quirked an eye at her as their friend looked on after the retreating Slytherin. "What was that about?" he asked, surprised.

"Nothing," Rose shrugged. "Talking bout the test."

"Godric, I bet you're glad you don't have to tutor him any more," said Alice, sighing in relief for her best friend. "He's an arse."

Rose laughed and followed the girl's gaze down the hall. Scorpius had just disappeared around a corner, though the memory of their exchange remained with her.

"Yeah, he can be," she finally replied, though when Alice linked arms with her and they started down the hall, Rose's thoughts were far way. Scorpius Malfoy could be an arse at times, but she also had a feeling he could be so, so much more.


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas Eve was a special night for the Weasleys, something Rose looked forward to every year. Christmas day would hold dinner at Gran Molly's, The Burrow bursting at the seams with cousins of all ages, but Christmas Eve was a quieter affair, one spent at home with the company of her mother's parents, Granna and Papa Granger.

"No, Papa, she's a chaser. A beater deals with the bludger. And it's the seeker who…"

No matter how many times Hugo or Ron attempted to explain Quidditch, Carlisle Granger would furrow his brow and in turn attempt to repeat the breakdown, only to mistake some element for that of Muggle futbol or rugby. The exchange was happening as it did every Christmas, and Rose laughed from her seat on the floor at her grandfather's feet.

Papa Granger had retired from his dental practice the year Rose started at Hogwarts, and he soon found himself with too much time on his hands and too little to do. His wife, the ever-sensible Maryellen, had stayed on at the practice, working the reception desk in the afternoons. No matter the shift that took place in their careers four years ago, any gift given by the Grangers was accompanied with a new model toothbrush and floss of a different color.

Rose glanced toward the Christmas tree. Three presents a piece sparkled in the light of the fireplace, and she was itching to find out what hers held. Hugo, however, appeared about to pull out his hair after explaining bludgers and beaters for the fourth –or was it fifth?– time.

Suddenly, her thirteen-year-old brother sighed dramatically and flopped backwards in the chair, hands over his face. "It's useless.." he mumbled, drawing a laugh from the rest of his audience.

"Sorry, ol' boy," Carlisle chuckled, removing his glasses and cleaning them on his sweater vest. "I can never get the ruddy thing straight. You'll have to show me one day."

Another sigh escaped the young man. He was beside himself that, one, no magic was allowed outside of Hogwarts, and, two, he'd been banned from flying the broom in the house only yesterday. One misfire of a quaffle toward the rubbish bin had crashed Hermione's favorite china set to the ground.

Rose rolled her eyes at him and pushed his knee playfully. "Oh, come off it, Hugo. It's Christmas."

He was silent, his face still covered, until slowly a mischievous grin appeared. "Which means…."

Granna Granger's eyes sparkled as she gestured towards the tree. "Go on. You've waited all night."

Before she even finished her sentence, the pair of Weasley siblings were scrambling over one another toward the packages.

"This one's yours!"  
"That's mine! Oh. Thanks."  
"Here's one for… no, that's for me!"  
"One more, over there. Come on!"

Wrapping paper was torn into confetti as the two opened their packages. One day Rose would be more ladylike and show some restraint, she thought, but today was not that day.

"Awesome!" Hugo cried, holding up the latest Muggle gaming system. It was handheld and with a shiny black finish; Rose could already see him trying to figure out how to sneak it off to Hogwarts with him.

Rose's first package held the usual items: a toothbrush, floss, an assortment of different flavored toothpastes. Rose sometimes thought those were more risky than Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The second package was a new leather-bound journal with gold-lined pages. "I love it!" she exclaimed, eyes shining.

"You've one more dear," said Granna, her gaze twinkling like that of her granddaughters.

Reaching for the final, much larger box, Rose smiled her gratitude at her grandparents before slipping off the red velvet bow. When she finally saw what was inside, a gasp pushed through her lips. "It's… it's beautiful!"

Rose ran a featherlight touch over the silky fabric, tapping the beads gingerly before lifting the dress from its package. The red was vibrant, the light catching on each curve and tuck of the material. Rose stood and drew the dress up with her; it cascaded down to her ankles, and the sight of it silenced the room.

Maryanne's eyes were crinkled with age and emotion as she watched the young girl become a young woman before her. "You have your first ball coming up, I believe. I thought–" but the woman's words were cut off as a head of auburn curls flew at her for a hug.

"It's perfect!"

She and Hermione had planned to go shopping in Diagon Alley the following week for a dress she could wear to the St. Valentine's Day ball, but Rose was worried about showing up in the same gown as another girl. Her mother must have mentioned it to Granna, and now Rose had a gown fit for a princess, one unlike anything else to be found at the February ball.

"Shall we see if it fits?" Maryellen whispered, her voice taut with emotion.

Rose took her by the hand and helped the elderly woman up from the couch, and the pair moved up the stairs to her bedroom. "Go one, go on," Maryellen laughed, a twinkle in her eye as she hurried her granddaughter inside.

Rose giggled and shimmied out of her clothes. She stepped carefully into the dress, sliding the fine material over her hips and pulling her arms through the sleeves that dipped around her shoulders. Her grandmother stepped up behind her to finish the zipper and, "Voila. A true beauty." Granna Granger leaned in and pressed a kiss to her granddaughter's cheek.

Rose was positively glowing.

"He's a lucky young man," said the older woman, a tear in her eye.

"Who is, Gran?" asked Rose, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Again Gran laughed. "Whoever is making you smile like that."

Her cheeks turned crimson as Rose looked back to her reflection in the mirror. There was one young man on her mind, one she could not wait to see her in the dress. She couldn't wait to see him at all, in fact. "Gran, I don't–"

"I know you better than that," the woman interrupted with a knowing smile. "But your secret is safe with me."


	13. Chapter 13

When the last grandparent was kissed goodbye, the final ember of the fire settling beneath the holiday garland, and the only remaining cookie left for "Santa" snuck from its plate by one Hugo Weasley, the Ron and Hermione bid the children goodnight and shuffled off to bed.

Rose was still dancing.

She danced up the stairs, down the hallway, and into her room, sweeping the lush red dress off the bed as soon as she entered. Rose held it up to her figure as she swayed in front of the mirror, imagining herself twirling around the Great Hall at the St. Valentine's ball. The ball was one of the most highly anticipated events of the year, and she was finally old enough to attend. Fourth years could go so long as an upper year asked them, and Rose had watched with great envy as Roxanne waltzed out of their dormitory last year to attend with Trevor McKnight.

This year, she wanted to be the belle of the ball, and in this dress, she could be. Candles would fly high above, red hearts falling from cupid's arrows, and she would dance the night away in the arms of a certain blonde Slytherin. Or so she dreamed. So she hoped.

As she swayed, Rose caught sight of something twinkling in the window. Fluttering, more like it. A tawny barn owl tapped twice on the upper pane. Rose lay the dress gently aside and hurried to let it in. Clutched in its claw was a scrap of parchment, tied with a green velvet ribbon.

Her heart swelled.

Rose almost chickened out of buying Scorpius a present, contemplating returning it more than once, but she sent it with shaking hands earlier that morning. While browsing Diagon Alley with Hugo she shad potted a miniature set of Quidditch rings in the window of her favorite stationery shop. Much to her delight, when pulled from its stand each ring would transform into a quill ready for writing. She wondered if he had used one of the quills to write her a response.

Her note had been simple, but sweet.

 _Happy Christmas, Scor. I hope it's wonderful.  
~Your favorite potions partner, RNW_

Rose had swirled her initials at the bottom of the letter before tying it to the gift. From the looks of it, he hadn't sent her a gift in reply, but she didn't mind. A letter was enough.

The ribbon hit the floor with one quick pull. Her eyes lit up as she unrolled the scroll, but they clouded just as quickly.

There was one line. No signature.

 _Don't write me, Weasley._

Rose sank backwards onto the bed, her knees weak and throat tight.

No "Thank you". No "Happy Christmas". Pure rejection.

Rose didn't understand. The Scorpius she knew had laughed with her in the hallway, gifted her gloves to spend more time with her, sang silly songs to memorize potion recipes, and was capturing more of her attention and affection than he knew. She hadn't expected a grand gesture, but she hadn't expected this either.

Clenching the note in hand, she pitched it toward the rubbish bin and crawled under the quilt fully clothed. The rough tug of the comforter sent her dress crumpling to the floor.

Rose didn't notice. Instead, she willed away the day and all thoughts of Scorpius Malfoy.

If he was finished with her, then she would be finished with him.

"Scorpius, dear, you've another gift to open."

From his place on the couch, Scorpius glanced at Astoria. She stood framed by wide French doors, her silhouette dark against the snow falling outside. A once beautiful and petite woman, Mrs. Malfoy had fought a hard won battle to retain her looks as age claimed each day, and in moments like these Scor understood how his father had fallen into her trap.

But age had sharpened her nose, paled her skin, and every attempt she made to look younger only emphasized the years she had gained. Now it appeared that she was the one who had become trapped. Malfoy Manor was the captor of her days, and Draco Malfoy the master of her heart and home; she bent to his will and whims with grace, and together they raised their son to do the same.

Scorpius wanted for nothing, gifts abounding beneath the tree, though as the afternoon waned and his parents prattled he caught himself aching to hear the laughter of a certain red headed Gryffindor.

"It could be from _Patricia!_ " sang his mother, shaking the box lightly.

This made Scorpius laugh but not for the reasons Astoria assumed. Rolling off the couch, Scor took the gift from his mother and tucked it under his arms, reaching straight for the note attached. He inhaled deeply, preparing to regale the room, i.e. his mother and father, with Patricia's long winded greetings.

"Happy Christmas, Scor!" he declared with a wave of his arm, nearly dropping the package. "I hope it's _wonderful_!" Scor mimicked Patricia's shriek, eliciting a giggle from his mother and a sour look from his father. "From, your favorite potion's partner… RNW."

Scorpius recognized the handwriting too late. He fumbled at the end of the sentence, swallowing her initials as the blood drained from his face.

"RNW?" Astoria echoed, exchanging a look with her husband who was rising from his chair.

Scorpius folded the note and shoved it in his pocket as nonchalantly as he could. "I'm sure it's just one of Trisha's games. Something for me to sort out, you know." His grip on the gift became white knuckled and he looked for any escape from the present situation. As Draco drew near, he realized there wasn't one.

"Do not tell me, _son_ , that a Weasley is sending you Christmas gifts."

 _Fine_ , thought Scor, _I won't_.

Draco, however, was not satisfied. He reached for the package and pulled it from the boy's grasp. He held it up in disgust, lights of the tree twinkling behind it. " _Why_ , may I ask _,_ is a Weasley sending you Christmas gifts?"

Scorpius shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. She's my potion's partner, not my girlfriend."

"Your _favorite_ potions partner," scoffed Draco, ripping the package open. Scorpius flinched, barely refraining the impulse to snatch the package back. He caught sight of the quill set, one he recognized from his last trip to town, just as his father pitched it into the fire. "I don't know what you think you're doing with her," spat Draco, pacing towards his son, "but whatever it is has to stop. This fling, flirting, _fraternizing_ ," he continued, a foul taste in his mouth, "is not acceptable."

"It's a stupid gift," Scorpius returned sharply. "It's not my fault."

"I don't care what it is," Draco shot back, "but it's over. Do you understand?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes," he grumbled, daring a glance at the fire. The quidditch quills were melting in front of his eyes.

But Draco was not finished. "I said, do you understand, _son_?" he repeated, bringing the gavel down with every word, squaring off with the boy.

Standing to his full height, Scor fought back his temper, replying through clenched teeth. "Yes, I understand, father."

"Good." Draco dismissed him with a wave of his hand and returned to his chair.

Astoria had not moved from her place by the window, but had turned her back on the exchange. She was not a strong enough woman to intervene for her son or to echo her husband's disdain.

Left to his own devices, Scorpius gathered his gifts gruffly and stalked up to his bedroom. His steps echoed through the empty manor and he slammed his door, tossing everything haphazardly on the mattress. The commotion of crashing gifts startled his owl out of a nap.

"Sorry, Titan," sighed Scor, caressing the cage on the way to his desk. Pulling the crumpled note from his pocket, he sank dramatically into his chair and pressed his lips in a flat line. The quidditch quills had been a very nice gift –she knew him well- but now they were burnt to a crisp, warming the house.

He still had the note however, which he now flattened against the desk with his palm, over and over again until the wrinkles were nearly faded.

 _Happy Christmas, Scor. I hope it's wonderful.  
~Your favorite potions partner, RNW_

"Wonderful," he scoffed, crinkling the note into his fist yet again. His Christmas had been survivable until her gift. Actually, it could have been fine, he thought, but he had the idiotic idea to read the note aloud. Another sigh pushed through his lips.

With greater care, Scor flattened the note once more and opened the bottom drawer of the desk. His gaze fell on a poorly wrapped package hidden beneath his potions notes.

At this he laughed, though half-hearted. The paper was removed, the twine discarded, and a set of quidditch quills emerged. He had purchased the same gift for Rose. But now, instead of sending them as a surprise, he tore a piece of the wrapping and scribbled one line, determined to put an end to his foolish fancies and the disgrace of the day.

One line. No signature. Pure rejection.

 _Don't write me, Weasley._


	14. Chapter 14

Hogwarts was draped in white when the students returned in January. The giant squid was caged beneath a thick sheet of ice, the whomping willow shaking icicles from its branches every hour. The castle itself glowed from within, smoke billowing from every common room chimney, window panes glowing an inviting gold. As they filtered off of the Hogwarts Express and piled into carriages, the students bundled up and huddled close as they rode from the station to the grounds.

Trunks floated on their own to their proper places and the path abandoned for other festivities. Footprints made in the snow ran every which way as first years and seventh years alike attacked classmates with snowballs of fresh fallen powder.

By the time the Potter and Weasley clans made their way into the entry hall, their noses were red from the cold, scarves and coats soaked to the bone. Laughter echoed off the stones and fluttered around and through the ghosts giving a rousing welcome to their recently returned friends.

James and his mate Gavin McLaggen tumbled towards the kitchens after a pair of Hufflepuff girls in hopes of a pre-dinner snack, while the rest made their way to Gryffindor tower.

In one swift move, Rose was relieved of the warmth around her neck and saw it dancing off in front of her.

"Oy, Hugo, give it back!" giggled Rose, reaching for the scarf her younger brother was now wearing like a feathered boa.

Hugo simply laughed and darted up the steps through the crowd, weaving his way several levels above. Rose followed, breathless from first the snowball fight and now this venture, halting when she spotted his next move. Hugo was leaning over the railing, her scarf in hand, dangling it over the hall below. "Hugo, don't, I'm freezing!" Her teeth were chattering, her cheeks pink, and her wand drawn.

"Oops."

Fluttering through the air, skillfully missing staircase after staircase as they moved this way and that, her scarf landed in a gold and red knit puddle on the floor of the entry hall. It was immediately trounced by a sea of Slytherins making their way towards the dungeon, until one kind soul reached to pick it up.

When she saw who it was, Rose frowned. Scorpius Malfoy was hardly a kind soul.

Scorpius ran his hand over Molly Weasley's precise stitches, finding three letters embroidered in gold. _RNW_. Gray eyes lifted and scanned the hall, but before he could find its owner, the material flew out of his hands and up towards the heavens.

" _Accio scarf_!" Rose cried, and what was lost soon returned. She dared a final glance over the banister to find Scorpius staring up at her. His smirk appeared first and hers followed. "Don't touch my stuff, Malfoy," she hissed, pressing her lips into a flat line as she spun away from the railing. "You either, Hugo," Rose added, brushing past her brother in a huff.

Hugo's brow furrowed and his shoulders slumped. "I was just playing around…"

"Well don't!"

Rose knew she was overreacting, but she didn't care. Heat rose to her cheeks as she clutched her snow-soaked scarf, barreling up the steps toward the common room. The hurt from Christmas had bubbled up in her heart moments after delight in seeing Scorpius had betrayed her.

Sighing, she pushed into the common room, knocking over a chessboard on her way. "Sorry," she grumbled as the second years scrambled for the pieces. Sinking into an armchair by the fire, she tossed her scarf onto the floor mere inches from the dancing flame.

Rose had to put all thoughts of him out of her mind. She was foolish to _ever_ think they could be friends, let alone anything more than that. But her heart had held onto hope anyway. And what did that bring her? Disappointment, heartache, and nothing more.

Her mind ran wild, pounding in pain as the feeling came back into her toes and fingers. The last of the chill was banished from her being just as James and Gavin stumbled through the portrait hole, hands full of sweet treats.

"Oy, Rosie, want some?" James managed, his words muffled by two chocolate chip cookies in his mouth.

Rose sighed. "No."

James knew that tone. In a family as large as theirs, and with as many women as it held, he knew when someone's feelings were hurt. Plus, Rose was more of a sister than a cousin. Nodding to Gavin, they moved in unison, perching on either side of her chair. "What's wrong?" James asked, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Rose brushed the cookie crumbs from her arm and shrugged.

"Do we need to beat someone up?" asked Gavin, offering her a cupcake.

When Rose saw that it had a bite taken out of it already, she gave a half laugh. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he continued, bumping her playfully as James had. "'Cause we will. Especially if it's some dumb bloke." Gavin punched a fist into his palm, forgetting that he held a squishy sweet treat in his grasp. "Ack!"

The trio laughed as Gavin revealed a handful of crumbs and blue icing and reached to wipe them on Rose's face. "No! Stop!" He managed to get one swipe across her cheek, only because James held her captive. "Gav!"

Gavin chuckled as he licked the icing from his fingers. "I'm serious though. Who did it?"

Rose's laughter settled and she ran a hand through her ringlets. "No one. It's just me. I'm fine, I promise."

"Whatever you say," replied James, offering up a cauldron cake. This one she took. "Can't have you moping around practice this week. We need you in tip-top shape for the match against Slytherin. Think you'll be ready?"

Just the thought of taking to the sky was a comfort to Rose. Especially if it meant beating Scorpius at his own game. "Oh, I'll be ready." She tore into the cauldron cake with a vengeance, tossing the wrapper into the fire.

James watched it burn then glanced again at his cousin. "That'a girl, Rosie." He ruffled a hand through her hair as he pushed off the chair, moving toward his dorm. Gavin however lingered.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Gavin gave it a light squeeze. He then leaned forward to whisper, "Whoever he is, he's an arse. You can do way better." With a wink, he dashed after James, leaving Rose mightily puzzled, staring after him.

Settling back into her chair, she picked at the cauldron cake and savored the rich chocolate taste. In her book, Scorpius Malfoy was definitely an arse.

And Gavin was right. She could do –and should do—way better.


	15. Chapter 15

"Merlin's pants! It's cold!"

A bell jingled overhead as a troupe of Weasley cousins shuffled into Madame Rosemerta's, desperate to get out of the snow. The soft January snow that dusted their walk to Hogsmeade was now a blinding blizzard ushering students off the streets and into every shop

"Merlin's pants?" laughed Hugo, brushing past Rose towards the fire. "You sound like Mum."

"Well you look like Dad's Great Aunt Tessie," she retorted, bumping him playfully as she held her hands up to the fire. Albus Severus wedged in between them and Lucy did a little dance to remove the snow from her boots.

"Oy, you lot!" came a familiar voice from a booth by the window. All four heads turned to find James at the center of a round table, waving them over.

Rose quirked an eyebrow. Alice Longbottom, one of her best mates, was sitting to his left, his arm draped around her shoulders. So that's where she had disappeared to this morning. And last night. And… well, every night that week it seemed.

A smirk danced on her lips as the group found a seat at the table, and Alice blushed pink. She gave a little shrug which made Rose laugh.

"What's so funny?" Gavin McLaggen tuned into the girls' silent exchange.

Rose shrugged, and turned to find him leaning perilously close. "Something just made sense, that's all."

Gavin quirked an eyebrow, and a glint she couldn't quite name flashed in his blue eyes. "Hmm."

"What?"

It was his turn to shrug, and his voice dropped low, where only Rose could hear. "Something doesn't make sense to me actually."

The power of his gaze made her blush, and she bought herself a spare moment by brushing a curl from her eyes. "What?"

"How a girl like you doesn't have a date to Hogsmeade. Or to the Valentine's Ball."

She turned completely red. Weasley red. "How do you know I don't have a date to the ball?" Rose asked with as much confidence as she could muster. Gavin saw right through it.

"If you did," he replied, reaching for his butterbeer with a grin at his lips, "then the bloke would be sitting next to you, not me." He took a sip. "Plus, I asked James."

"Well I'm sure you two will make a lovely couple," she teased, reaching for his butterbeer. Gavin laughed and let her have it gladly. Rose took a sip and wiped the foam from her lips before turning back to him.

"So will you?"

Rose wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. "Help him pick out a dress to wear? Sure. James looks great in blue."

Gavin laughed again, this time drawing the attention of the rest of the table. "You're going to make me work for it aren't you?"

"Maybe." Rose's eyes danced.

The challenge appealed to him, and he lay his hand over hers on the mug of butterbeer. "What do you say, Weasley? Go to the ball with me?"

Weasley.

In an instant, Rose was launched out of the pub and into a potion's classroom, a gray-eyed smirk saying the same. " _What do you say, Weasley? Go to the ball with me?"_ Only Scorpius hadn't said it, at least in nothing but a dream.

Rose blinked several times to bring herself back to the present moment. Gavin searched her gaze, his lips twitching in a grin. He knew he had won.

"You know, I think I will."


	16. Chapter 16

The ball was in full swing. Fireworks of confetti hearts and mischievous, flying cupids danced overhead while students swayed below, the Great Hall transformed with reds, pinks, glitter, and gold. Plump cushions lined the walls, as did the professors; love was in the air but public displays of affection were at least attempted to be kept under control.

Rose, however, was not enjoying the festivities. Her date, Gavin McLaggen, had been charming, well dressed, and on time. The seventh year Gryffindor met her in the common room, kissed her hand, and swept her off her feet. That is until he swept a flask of firewhisky out of his coat pocket and into his punch. Five times.

She had enough when he stumbled through their last dance, his hands sliding where they shouldn't have, and his gaze wandering around the room. Rose left him reaching for his now empty flask and escaped out of the Great Hall for some fresh air. Her task led her up the stairs, past more than one snogging pair, and to the astronomy tower. Luckily her retreat was found empty. Or so she thought.

"This seat's taken, Weasley."

The voice startled her and steeled her. Clearing her throat, she moved to lean against the railing. "Run off on your date, Malfoy?" she sneered, eyes on the sky.

A chuckle came from behind her as Scorpius pushed up off the floor and stepped out of the shadows. "Didn't you?"

Rose did not reply. Shifting her weight, she braced herself against the mid-winter chill, regretting the bare shoulders of her dress. Her eyes remained on the icy surface of the Black Lake.

Scorpius hesitated several feet from her, his hands in the pockets of his dress robes. "Eh, I don't blame you. Gavin's an arse."

"People think you're an arse," she snapped, folding her arms over her chest as a shiver ran down her spine.

His hand flinched toward the edge of his outer robe, but he hesitated. "Do you?"

Rose bit her lip and shivered again, refusing to look at him. "At the moment… yes."

Scorpius was silent a moment.

Suddenly she felt the warmth of fur-lined silk draped around her shoulders. Her immediate impulse was to shrug it off and push it back towards him. "Scorpius, stop."

He, in turn, pushed it back towards her. "Rose, don't be stupid. It's freezing out here."

"No," she said, pushing it back at him with finality. "I'm tired of this. We're not friends. We're not… anything! So just leave me alone." Rose released her grip on his coat and let it fall to the ground as she stalked around to the other side of the tower. What was he trying to do to her?

Chill bumps raised on her arms and her shoulders shook with the cold, but Rose refused to relent. She would stand her ground, away from him. Leaning her back against the railing, she sank to a seat on the floor of the tower.

Seconds later, two shining dress shoes came into view, and the robe was extended toward her once more. "Take the damn cloak," said Scorpius, a tinge of amusement in his voice. "You'll catch your death out here and will have to watch Slytherin beat Gryffindor from the sidelines.

Rose didn't move. Flakes of snow settled onto her bare shoulders, and she sighed.

"Fine," she groaned, snatching the robe from him. Draping it around her shoulders, she shuddered, but warmth immediately surrounded her. "And you're not going to beat us."

Scorpius smirked and sank to a seat beside her. "There she is."

"Who?"

"My favorite potions partner."

Rose threw him a look and scoffed, pulling her legs in beneath her. His chuckle faded and he draped his hands over his knees, content to wait at her side. This both bothered her and intrigued her.

The steadily falling snow caught in her eyelashes and dampened her hair; Rose brushed them away as the pair lingered in silence.

"So.. Gavin McLaggen?" Scor said finally, his words appearing in a puff of air before him.

Staring at her manicure, Rose shrugged. "Yeah, what about him?" The pink paint was pearlescent in the light of the moon, she thought. Anything to get her mind, and eyes, off him.

Scorpius shifted to better look at her and a smirk tugged at his lips. " _That's_ who you picked to be your date to this thing?"

"Coming from the bloke who's been arm-in-arm with Patty since Christmas?" Rose quirked an eyebrow at him above her disdain-filled gaze. "Besides, _he_ asked _me_. And I like giving people the benefit of the doubt." It had gotten her into trouble more than once, namely with Scorpius himself, but she had learned her lesson there.

"But he's an arse. And he's ugly to boot."

"No, he's not," she retorted, moving to face him. "You're the arse in this picture, Scor."

Scorpius held up his hands in surrender. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

Snow was falling in droves now, the romantic flurries turning to heavy dregs. Hugging the cloak more tightly around her shoulders, Rose struggled to stand and took shelter beneath the awning of the tower. Scorpius followed, brushing snow off his trousers and from his hair. The pair squeezed into the small doorway at the same time, Scor catching her arm before she could flee.

"What happened to benefit of the doubt?" he asked.

Rose's eyes flashed up at him, but something in his gaze caught her attention. A vulnerability, a softness. A pleading glance. "I tried that," she huffed, pulling her arm gruffly from his grasp. "I won't make that mistake again."

"Bloody hell, Rose, I…" Scor ran his hands through his hair and dropped all his defenses for a single, fleeting moment. But anger, hurt, and embarrassment still bubbled in Rose's heart.

"What, Scor? You what?" she snapped, shrugging out of his cloak. "You _need_ me?" Rose wadded up the fine fabric and pushed it into his arms. "You need your precious potions partner to help you pass so you can play your precious quidditch? Well, I won't do it. I'm finished. I'm through with-"

Suddenly, his lips captured hers in a kiss, and her words fell short.

When exactly he made the decision to do it, Scorpius didn't know. But the desire to hold her in his arms had overtaken all sense, all speech, and commanded obedience. He drew her to him, one arm around her waist, his free hand caressing her cheek.

Rose froze in shock then, much to her surprise and his delight, she melted into his embrace. Her eyes fluttered closed, her arms wrapped around him, and her kiss matched his. The mid-February snow was not the only reason for the chill running down her spine.

When they parted, they lingered, holding one another close. Rose looked up at him with shy eyes, her heart pounding out of her chest. Scorpius Malfoy had kissed her. _She_ had kissed Scorpius Malfoy. And she wanted to kiss him again.

Scorpius was the first to speak, his signature smirk appearing mere centimeters from hers. "You were saying?"

Rose blushed crimson and bit her bottom lip. "Something about being through… with you…"

"That's obviously working so well," he chuckled, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips and back again as he brushed a curl behind her cheek.

Rose laughed, too and stepped forward, closing the space between them. She was long gone now. "You're still an arse, you know that?" She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing this. She knew better.

"I do," he grinned, his nose brushing against hers.

Her heart leapt to her throat and her grip tightened around him. "You know what else?" she added quietly, finally finding those bright gray eyes. One look and she was lost in them.

"What?"

Stepping up on her toes, Rose pressed her lips to his in another kiss.

"I lied."


	17. Chapter 17

Ten, eleven, twelve gongs of the tower clock later, the last of the late night ball-goers were ushered from the dancefloor and off to their dormitories. Professors yawned and dozed as confetti was swept from every corner and chandelier, cupids following behind with more mischief. Music floated throughout the building until the instruments were relieved of their spells and they settled back into a storage closet, where they would remain until the next grand affair.

A fresh layer of snow covered every turret, balcony, and stone of the castle over which the Astronomy Tower stood guard. Just inside the tower door, a laugh was stifled and a chuckle echoed as an unexpected pair retreated from the cold, curfew, and curious eyes of their classmates.

"Who knew a Weasley could kiss like that," Scorpius teased, his arms wrapping around the Gryffindor as she lay against his chest.

"Oh hush," Rose laughed, her cheeks turning crimson as she winced with embarrassment. "And know I hate it when you call me that," she added, pulling back to glance up at him.

"I know," he admitted with a smirk.

Rose dropped her gaze and distracted herself by picking at the lapel of his tux. "I may be a Weasley but that's not all I am."

Scorpius watched her carefully. This woman, this Weasley, had completely unwound him. Dumbfounded him. Hate had melted to toleration which had transformed into a friendship that was quickly blossoming into something more. An idea struck him. "Well how about this?"

She lifted her doe eyes to him in wonder, her smile hesitant.

"Whenever I call you Weasley," he continued, his grin growing, "it means I want to do this." He watched her countenance transform from curiosity to glee as he brushed a kiss to her lips. She responded with great fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him even closer.

They broke apart laughing. "I think I could get used to that," she replied, stealing a kiss of her own.

"Good." Scorpius released her to run a hand through his hair and lift the fallen cloak to her shoulders.

Rose was flying higher than the heavens, her heart soaring towards the young man in front of her, threatening to abandon her altogether. She was treading dangerous water and hoped she wouldn't regret it in the morning. "So what does this mean?"

Scor's brow furrowed, his head quirking to one side. "What does what mean?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You. Me. Us." Rose held his gaze and searched it for truth. "There is an us, isn't there?"

Scorpius sighed.

"Wrong answer," she said, taking a step away from him.

"No, Rose, hold on," he said quickly. "It's not that easy." There was panic in his eyes as he stepped in front of the tower exit. He knew her well enough to know she was on the edge of running. Rose folded her arms over her chest. "Don't tell me you aren't thinking the same thing."

She stared him down a moment before her look softened. "Okay. Fine. What if I am?"

His smirk returned. "Do I have to make a list of why this won't work?"

"Why this _shouldn't_ work," she corrected him. Rose knew every reason in the book why they shouldn't be together. Her parents. His parents. Her friends. Their houses. Their histories. The list could go on and on. "But it can," she said, and she believed it with all her heart. "If we want it to."

Rose held out her hand to him and Scorpius raised his to take it. Their fingers intertwined in the moonlight, and neither could stop staring at them.

"You do want it to, don't you?" she asked quietly.

Scorpius could walk away. He could sever all ties here and now, and his life would be much, much easier. But –he wouldn't admit it aloud—walking away from her was the last thing he wanted to do.


End file.
